Rise of the Spirits
by Ink Mage
Summary: A different view on how Jack Frost could have beaten Pitch. One-shot


_A.N. Hey all! So, I woke this morning to find 23 emails from for people who had reviewed my latest story, people who favourited it, people who were following me (and that __still__ sounds stalker-ish to me)… So, I decided to publish this a little earlier than anticipated. Enjoy!_

"Wait!" Jack forced himself to slow down in mid-air, the wind rippling around him. Baby Tooth flapped frantically around him, her distress clear. But Jack had an idea. Without a second thought, he angled his body away from Burgess. If anything, Baby Tooth grew more upset, pointing towards the town frantically.

"Trust me, Baby Tooth!" Jack shouted. "I know what I'm doing. I'm gonna get us some backup." With that, he gave a shout of, "Wind, take me to Greece," and was gone.

—Time Passes—

It was an ocean of Nightmares. Millions of them, coming in from all corners of the globe. And all that was standing between them and the complete loss of the innocence of children were the five Guardians—Sandy having returned moments earlier—and seven children. Pitch stood at the front of the massive army, smirking in triumph. He had been planning this event since the Dark Ages, and was enjoying it immensely. Jack was just hoping that everything went to plan. "Come on, come on…" he muttered softly. Jamie looked at him in confusion, but soon turned his attention to the more pressing problem.

"Tell me," Pitch said with a sneer, "do you now be…" Suddenly, a rumbling grew from the very earth. Jack had only a few moments to relish the look of shock and fear on Pitch's face, before the Boogeyman was sent flying. They came from all over the place, in all sorts of forms. The Groundhog, Cupid, the ever-drunk Irish leprechaun, Samhain… each and every spirit who existed without being seen came charging as an army, with the goat-legged Pan at the front, wielding his pan flute with gusto. And with the spirits came the minions—cherubs, ghosts and ghouls, and every animal within a hundred mile radius. Pitch did the only sensible thing—he fled the town as fast as his Nightmare could go, with the minions gleefully giving chase. This left the spirits to talk to the Guardians.

"Hey there, Long Ears," the Groundhog began, immediately taking the opportunity to pester Bunnymund. After the Groundhog had predicted 6 more weeks of winter in '68, which had given Jack the inspiration to create the Easter Blizzard, the pair had never gotten along. Bunnymund contented himself with a growl, but looked decided instead to question the strange group who had come to their rescue. Since Pan was flirting lecherously with Tooth (who was trying to avoid him), Bunnymund decided to question Samhain.

"What are you lot doing here, mate?" Bunnymund asked in suspicion. "I ain't seen ya since the time you were confused with a bunyip in Australia! How'd you get here, ya dag?" The Halloween spirit, currently in the form of a dark brown werewolf, grinned at the Pooka. "Good to see you too, my old friend," he replied with his faintly British accent. "As for why I am here… well, I heard from Tom Turkey who heard from Cupid who heard from…." North interjected quickly. "Da, da, this is interesting… but what was the actual message?" Samhain glared balefully at the Russian Guardian, but condensed the story. "Jack Frost contacted us, and asked us to assist in defeating Pitch Black."

—Flashback—

_The heat was beginning to build in Greece, and the region which used to be known as Arcadia was enjoying a boom in the quality of olives and pasture. And why not? After all, Pan was there—the ancient god of pasture, agriculture, wilds and (this one pleased him more than the others) sexuality. He was preparing himself to rest against a post and watch the planting, when the Eastern Wind blew in with a vengeance. An unusual sight was riding on its back—an uncomfortable-looking Jack Frost. The faun god leapt to his feet in shock at the sight of the Winter spirit, preparing himself for the news._

"_Need…help…" Jack gasped. Pan nodded. "I suspect you do, if you're coming out here in this heat. What happened? Did a storm get away from you and sink another ocean liner?" Of course, Jack had filled him in with the real story—how he had been grabbed by the Easter Bunny, how he had almost been inducted as a Guardian, how the Bogeyman was trying to take over the world, how Jack had finally seen his memories, how there was only one child left… Finally, the exhausted spirit finished his story, waiting to hear Pan's verdict._

_ "And why should I help the Guardians? Why should any of us help the Guardians?" Jack didn't need a translation. 'We' were the spirits who went through life invisible, trying to improve the world but being ignored the entire time. As a rule they hated the Guardians, because the Guardians ignored them just as often as the humans who couldn't see them._

_ "I have nothing against you," Pan reassured Jack. "As I see it, you're one of us, and it's awesome that you're finally getting some recognition from those stuck-up snobs. But we're different from them. They condemned you for the Titanic disaster. They ignored poor Samhain when children refused to trick-or-treat for fear of poisoned candy. And did you see them helping the leprechaun with the religious riots on St Patricks Day? NO! So why should we help them?" Jack gave the only answer he could. "Tooth will be there." A moment's pause, then—"Let me call Prince Charming. I'm in."_

—End Flashback—

"…So Pan called Prince Charming who called the leprechaun who called…" Samhain finished his recount. Tooth—who was still trying to extract herself from the amorous faun—said with a grimace, "Thank you, I think we understand." The abashed Halloween spirit nodded. "But what I don't understand," she said, "is why the rest of you came. Pan—well, his reason is obvious," she said with a wince, "—but why the rest of you?"  
"I don't know about the rest of those cafflers did it," the leprechaun said with a drunken hiccup, "but I did it to prove a point. Ya Guardians think you're better than us just 'cause you're believed in? I don't know. All I knows is that there's more of us, we have a tendency to band together, and we all have a point to prove. You may quiver in fear at Pitch's shadow, but I'd fight through a thousand Nightmares if there might be a child who'll believe at the end of that rainbow. That, or a pint of Guinness. And that makes me bleedin' deadly."

The Guardians nodded, their respect for the forgotten spirits growing. Jack stood back and balanced on his staff, a soft grin on his face. He knew that from now on, the Guardians would remember that they had other allies during a fight. And he also knew that now, no spirit would be forced to wander around alone for 300 years. Now spirits would be protected by spirit and Guardian alike.


End file.
